


no choice

by djelibeybi



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post LSH, book canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21693535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djelibeybi/pseuds/djelibeybi
Summary: “You would have died for Renly, a man who mocked you behind your back, but I jump in front of a thrice-damned bear for you and you lead me to my death? Tell me, wench, if it was Renly she asked you to kill, would you have had a choice?”
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 65
Kudos: 331





	no choice

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another post-LSH fic because that's all I know how to write apparently. Not my best work but I felt like posting something so here it is. Drinking game: take a shot every time I use the word 'soft.'

Everything hurt.

They had been riding furiously all day, desperate to put the remnants of the Brotherhood as far behind them as possible, even though they had seemed confused and rudderless after the death of their leader, and had made no move to pursue them. Now dusk had fallen and they had reached an inn. Though Brienne had been reluctant to stop at first, worried that Jaime would be recognised, he had said that she was too badly injured to camp and that she needed to sleep in a warm room with a bed. Nobody had argued.

Now they were huddled around a hearth with bowls of soup in their hands. The inn was too busy and too loud for anyone to pay them much attention, and Brienne had nothing to think about but the ache in her arm, the ache in her cheek, and another different but no less painful ache somewhere in her chest that had begun after killing Stoneheart and got stronger every time she looked at the clench of Jaime’s jaw in the firelight.

He was furious, she could tell. The look on his face when she had said, “My lady, I have brought you the Kingslayer” still haunted her. That wasn’t anger, not at first. It was far worse. He had looked at her with pure, unguarded, almost innocent shock, and she had realised in that moment that she was probably the last person he had expected to betray him.

He had knelt and bent his neck for her to kill him, and at the last second she had turned and plunged her sword through Stoneheart’s chest instead. They had not spoken since. She hated this, the silence. It was so unlike him. He had talked almost constantly on the ride from Pennytree, hardly noticing that she was barely replying; he had sounded almost happy. That made her heart ache even more.

She did not want to do it in front of Hyle and Pod, but she was unlikely to get a chance to speak to him alone, and she could no longer bear the silence. Abruptly, she said, “Ser Jaime, please forgive me.”

He looked at her then, finally, and his eyes looked like how she imagined wildfire, bright green and flashing and furious. “Forgive you?” Angry as it was, the sound of his voice was a relief. “You lied to my face, lured me into a trap and betrayed my trust, and now you ask for my forgiveness?”

Tears blurred her vision. She had known she would cry at some point during this conversation, but not quite so soon as this. She blinked them away. “I never intended to let you die. I had a plan.”

“And what if your plan hadn’t worked, wench? You were very lucky it did.”

“I had to try. There was nothing else to be done.” Her voice sounded small and pathetic. “I had no choice.”

Hyle and Pod exchanged an uncomfortable glance, but Brienne could only see Jaime. His laugh was cruel. “No choice?”

“They would have killed –”

He spoke over her, his voice growing louder with every word. “You would have died for Renly, a man who mocked you behind your back, but I jump in front of a thrice-damned bear for you and you lead me to my death? Tell me, wench, if it was Renly she asked you to kill, would you have had a choice?”

She felt as though she had been slapped in the face. There was a strange ringing in her ears. “What,” she began, then could not find the words to finish the sentence. “Renly. What?”

“Leave her,” said Hyle suddenly. His voice was low and uncharacteristically serious. “She is in no fit state for this.”

A painful lump rose in her throat. “No. Tell me,” she pleaded Jaime. “What did Renly say about me?”

But Jaime looked less certain now, though his eyes were still dark with anger. “It matters not, wench,” he said brusquely. “Ser Hyle is right, you should go to bed. We will finish this conversation on the morrow.”

“No,” she said desperately. The tears were streaming down her cheeks now, and gods, every part of her ached. “Please, Jaime, tell me now.”

But Jaime only clenched his jaw and swept out of the room.

Everything hurt.

Pod and Hyle brought her up to her room, and she lay on the featherbed, her broken arm held gingerly over her stomach and an emptiness in her chest. Exhausted as she was, she knew she could not hope for sleep. Jaime’s words echoed in her head, over and over. _You would have died for Renly, a man who mocked you behind your back._ She pictured Renly, her sweet smiling king. So handsome and noble. He had danced with her and told her to ignore the laughing boys. _A man who mocked you behind your back._ He had named her to his kingsguard and put his rainbow cloak around her shoulders. When he died, she had held him in her arms and sworn to avenge him. _A man who mocked you._

Jaime had been cruel to her before, but he had never lied. Suddenly, she found herself remembering things that she had ignored in the past. A half smile exchanged between Renly and Loras, so quick she barely caught it. The time she’d asked to guard him and he had turned her down. Renly whispering in Loras’ ear, both of their eyes on her for just the briefest second.

Of course Renly had mocked her behind her back. Everybody did. At least he’d had the courtesy not to do it to her face.

It did not make her feel any less foolish, or less heartbroken.

There was a knock on her door. “Pod?” she asked. She felt so weary. Even that one word was an effort.

“No,” said the voice outside, and she sat up. It was Jaime.

“What is it?” she asked, voice trembling.

“Can I come in?” His voice was quiet, and no longer angry.

She hesitated. “Yes.”

He entered, closing the door gently behind him. He looked almost as tired as she felt. She wrapped a blanket around herself and watched him warily.

“I’m sorry,” he said heavily. “I shouldn’t have said that about Renly.”

“You have every right to be angry with me.”

“No,” he said. “I don’t.” He met her eyes. “Hunt told me you hanged for me.”

Unconsciously, her fingers went to her throat, where the bruise on her throat was hidden by the collar of her jerkin. Jaime came over and pulled the collar down, hissing when he saw the mark.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I failed you. I would have died for you, Jaime, I wanted to, but they were hanging Hyle and Pod too and Pod is only a boy. I had to save him. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.” His voice was tight. He traced the mark of the noose with his fingers, and she shivered at his touch. He was so close she could smell him; steel and smoke. “Gods, don’t apologise.”

“But you said…”

“I know what I said, and I regret it. I was angry.” His voice was suddenly soft, his eyes burning into hers. “I didn’t expect you to betray me, but I never wanted you to die for me, Brienne. What a bloody waste that would be. Promise me you never will.”

“You said Sansa Stark was your last chance for honour.” Her voice sounded so very small. “I wanted you to get your honour back.”

Jaime let out a long breath. His hand cupped her ruined cheek. “Renly was a fool,” he said.

“Will you tell me what he said?” she asked, hating the crack in her voice. “Please.”

He looked down at her. “I really don’t see why it matters.”

“If you don’t tell me I will spend the rest of my life trying to guess. Please, Jaime.”

He hesitated. “All I know is what I heard from Loras.”

“Just tell me.”

He paused. “He said that Renly thought you were absurd,” he said quietly. “And that he kept you around because he knew that all you wanted was to die for him.”

A fresh tear rolled down her cheek, but Jaime knelt in front of her and stopped it with his thumb, brushing it away. “A fool,” he repeated softly.

“I am the fool,” she whispered. “He was right. I would have died for him.”

“And there is no shame in that. We don’t get to choose who we love, Brienne. I joined the Kingsguard for the same reason you did. Love for someone who never loved me in return. But I am not ashamed, and nor should you be.” He brushed away another tear. “You are good and pure and selfless, Brienne of Tarth. He was lucky to have been loved by you.”

She held her breath, her heart skipping stupidly at his words. Then she realised the revelation he had just made. “Cersei…?”

Jaime looked away. “She is not who I thought she was. You are not the only one who loved blindly, it seems.”

She remembered Jaime in the Bloody Mummers’ camp, crying out for Cersei in his sleep after losing his hand. As much as their relationship confused and unsettled her, it had always been clear how much Jaime loved his sister. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.” His gaze drifted back to the noose mark. “Forgive me for everything I’ve put you through.”

“There is nothing to forgive. I did it willingly,” she said stubbornly. “And I would do it again.”

He shook his head. He was looking at her like he could not quite believe she was real. “Why?”

_Because I love you._ It was the first time she had dared to think it, and suddenly the certainty of it flooded her. It was a mad, dizzy, terrifying feeling, like her head was about to float off her body. _I love you I love you I love you._ “I swore an oath.”

He studied her face for a long time, and then he smiled. It was a small smile, but it lit up his face nonetheless. He really was impossibly beautiful, she thought. “My Brienne,” he said, bringing his hand to her face again, stroking the line of her jaw. His eyes were soft. “My brave Brienne.”

She could hardly breathe.

He leaned in slowly, touching his forehead against hers, then kissed her very gently. For a moment, she was too stunned to react. It felt like a dream; was it a dream? But he kept kissing her, and kissing her, and eventually she let herself kiss him back, though she scarcely knew what she was doing. He didn’t seem to mind, though; in fact he responded with enthusiasm, pulling her closer to him, deepening the kiss. Her hand tangled in his golden hair; his slid beneath her tunic to caress her side. He was so warm, so close. The dizzy feeling overcame her again. _I love you I love you I love you._

She lay back on the bed, and he leaned down to meet her, but then she accidentally put pressure on her broken arm and yelped with pain. Jaime leaned away. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she said quickly, not wanting him to stop, but he straightened and moved away to sit on the edge of the bed. 

“Much as I’d love to continue, wench, you badly need rest,” he said with a sigh. “And we should probably wait until you’re at least somewhat healed.”

Though she knew the truth of his words, it felt like a rejection all the same. Suddenly Jaime leaving seemed like the worst thing in the world. She had missed him for so long.

Yet she knew not to ask for more than he would give, so she nodded and moved away from him, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach and the voice in the back of her mind telling her that he regretted kissing her and that it would not happen again.

Then Jaime said, “Would you like me to stay?”

She looked up, heart soaring. “Would you?”

He smiled and kissed her again, quick and soft. “I’m quite tempted, wench. Though I’m sure Hyle Hunt will not approve.”

She remembered what the Brotherhood had called her. _Kingslayer’s whore._ No, Hyle would not approve, nor would anyone. But with Jaime’s warmth in the bed beside her, his arm draped across her middle and his breath tickling the crook of her neck, Hyle’s opinion did not seem important.

And neither, she realised, did Renly’s.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!


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